Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 518: Old Memories

Kyrian remained motionless for several seconds before the gigantic eye.

The enormous golden iris occupied nearly his entire field of vision, a landscape of light and motion stretching as far as his eyes could see.

Seen up close, it seemed even more impossible than it had from a distance, an immense expanse of colors and patterns that defied all human comprehension.

It was not merely an eye. It was like a living ocean, formed from countless layers of golden light that slowly revolved, moving in mesmerizing spirals that seemed to contain the secrets of forgotten ages.

And within all that beauty, within all that immensity, there was a sorrow beyond description. A pain so profound that Kyrian could feel it without even touching it, an anguish that seemed to emanate from the very essence of that creature.

Beside him, Gao Ziyue remained silent. Her shadowy form stood perfectly still, like a statue carved from darkness itself. Her hand still rested upon the enormous iris, gently caressing it, as though trying to convey comfort through her touch.

"Come." Her voice was low, almost a whisper.

"First... see for yourself."

She slowly withdrew her hand from the golden surface and took a small step back, making room for Kyrian.

"Touch the eye." Her tone carried a deep weight, a seriousness Kyrian had never heard from her before.

"It will probably show you... just as it showed me years ago."

Kyrian looked once more at that colossal creature. The golden iris pulsed gently, as though it were breathing.

Patterns of light moved across its surface, forming images that vanished before he could identify them.

For a moment, he hesitated.

Not because he was afraid.

But because his instincts told him that this touch would change something.

Even so... Kyrian slowly raised his hand.

His fingers reached toward the golden surface, every inch of the distance increasing the intensity of the energy radiating from that eye. The air around his hand began to tremble, tiny waves of heat and light dancing between his fingers.

The closer he came, the stronger that strange sensation became. It was as though space itself vibrated gently around him, responding to the presence of his Heavenly Bone. The eye’s golden energy seemed to recognize him, calling to him, inviting him closer.

Then... his fingers touched the golden surface.

The very next instant... everything disappeared.

There was no explosion. No light. No darkness. It was as though his consciousness had simply been torn away from that domain and cast somewhere else, a transition so smooth that he barely noticed the exact moment it happened.

Kyrian felt something penetrate deep into his mind. It was not Qi. It was not intent or will. It was... memories. Ancient memories. So ancient that they seemed to belong to the world itself, predating every civilization Kyrian had ever known.

It was as though the eye were sharing a part of its own essence with him, a fragment of its history that had been preserved for countless ages.

He closed his eyes instinctively, allowing that sensation to envelop him completely. There was no resistance in his body, no struggle within his mind. Only acceptance, the understanding that this was something he needed to witness.

When he opened them again... he was no longer standing before the gigantic eye.

...

The wind howled violently.

Kyrian found himself floating above an endless mountain range. His form was incorporeal, a bodiless consciousness observing everything from an impossible perspective. He could see in every direction at once and could perceive every detail of the world around him.

The sky was unlike anything he had ever known. Purer. Vastly broader. Its colors were richer, shades of blue and gold blending together in patterns that looked as though they had been painted by a divine hand. The stars appeared larger, closer, as though the heavens themselves had descended nearer to the earth.

The spiritual energy of that world was so dense that it could almost be seen dancing through the air. Tiny particles of light floated everywhere, creating a radiant mist that enveloped everything. Even the act of breathing seemed saturated with Qi, every breath filling one’s lungs with pure, ancient energy.

Upon the tallest mountain... she rested.

Azhura’k.

Back then, however, she had not yet reached the monstrous size she possessed now. Her body was still gigantic, easily comparable to the mountain upon which she rested. Her golden scales gleamed beneath the sunlight, reflecting rays that spread for countless kilometers.

Even so... she was only a fraction of the creature she would become thousands of years later.

She slept peacefully, her enormous body rising and falling with each slow, deep breath. Her massive eye remained closed, a golden slit upon her serene face. Her breathing moved entire clouds, creating currents of air that flowed through the mountains like invisible rivers.

The world seemed to exist in perfect peace. There were no wars, no conflicts, none of the relentless pressure of cultivation that Kyrian knew. Only an ancient creature resting within her home.

Then... the space above her tore apart.

It was not a gradual opening but a violent rupture. The very fabric of reality split apart, creating a rift that stretched for kilometers. Through that fracture, Kyrian could see a dark void, a space between worlds that should not have existed.

Three figures emerged.

One man. Two women. All dressed in ancient robes.

Kyrian could not make out their faces. It was as though some force prevented that information from reaching him, as though their features were concealed behind a veil that not even his special eyes could penetrate.

But... he could feel them.

Each of them radiated a pressure incomparably greater than any cultivator he had ever encountered. The energy emanating from their bodies was so dense that Kyrian could sense it despite being nothing more than a spectator. Even the Fire Spirit, that ancient and powerful entity, seemed insignificant before those three existences.

They did not utter a single word. There was no negotiation, no warning, no attempt at communication whatsoever. They attacked immediately.

The heavens exploded.

Thousands of kilometers of clouds vanished in a single instant, vaporized by the sheer force of the unleashed energy. The mountain upon which Azhura’k rested trembled violently, cracks spreading across its surface like a spider’s web.

Azhura’k opened her enormous eye.

For the first time... Kyrian heard her roar.

It was not a roar of fury. It was not the cry of a creature launching an attack. It was a roar of shock, of disbelief, as though she simply could not comprehend that this was happening.

And immediately afterward... pain.

The battle began.

Mountains collapsed. Oceans of fire appeared in the heavens, flames burning with an intensity Kyrian had never witnessed before. Lightning tore across entire regions, bolts of pure energy ripping through space and time.

Every strike from those cultivators seemed powerful enough to annihilate entire kingdoms. The man raised his hand, and an entire mountain was torn from the earth, hurled toward Azhura’k as though it were nothing more than a stone. One of the women conjured a storm of blades made of light, each one capable of cutting through any defense. The other summoned chains of energy stretched for kilometers, attempting to bind the creature.

Even so... Azhura’k endured. She fought desperately, her immense body streaking across the sky like a golden star. Her wings spread wide, and every beat created shockwaves that flattened mountains. Her roar made space itself tremble, waves of sound shattering rocks and disintegrating clouds.

She only wanted to escape. Kyrian realized that almost immediately as he observed her movements. She did not try to kill the three attackers, nor did she fight back with all her strength. Every movement she made was an attempt to flee, to create distance, to find an opening through which she could disappear.

But... she could not.

The three cultivators were everywhere at once, their attacks severing every possible escape route. They gave her no respite, no opening, no hope.

The attacks continued relentlessly. One after another. Without pause. Without mercy. Every strike opened new wounds across the creature’s body, every wound spilling her golden blood upon the mountains below.

It was then... that Kyrian felt it.

An unbearable agony flooded his consciousness. His head felt as though it were being split in two, as if a wedge were being driven through his skull. His chest tightened, his lungs burning as though they were filled with fire. His entire body trembled uncontrollably.

It was not his pain.

It was... Azhura’k’s pain.